


A Monstrous Fate

by junko



Category: Bleach
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: Urahara Kisuke isn't normally the sort to introduce himself to strangers, but there's something about this bespectacled nerd that intrigues him.  A mystery is irresistible.... even when it leads straight to trouble.  Hmmmm, maybe ESPECIALLY when it does





	A Monstrous Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Listed as Urahara/Aizen, but there are no sexy times between these two men, below. The only implied sex in this is Urahara/Yoruichi. So, stop now if that will disappoint you.

Kisuke wasn’t sure why he went over to help the cadet pick up his books. Maybe it was because they were clearly both first years. Maybe because he didn’t like bullies, and that whole ‘oops I accidentally punched that big stack books out your hands’ thing was so…. cliché. Maybe it was that no one else offered to help, but instead just looked away, as if hoping they could evade the same fate simply by avoiding eye contact.

More likely, it was the big stack of books, so much like the one he usually carried.

“Oh, objective chemistry,” Kisuke remarked, hanging on to the book just a moment longer to admire it and run his fingers along the spine lovingly. He opened it up and took a deep sniff of the freshly printed ink. “I absolutely adore this author, don’t you? So funny!”

Underneath the thick glasses he wore, the moppy brown-haired cadet gave Kisuke what could only be described as a ‘withering’ glance. That was okay, most people looked at Kisuke like that any time he opened his mouth, especially when he talked about science. Ah, well. 

A very old book caught Kisuke’s eye. The cover was vellum and the calligraphy very ancient, possibly Chinese. He reached for it at the same moment as the cadet. Their fingers touched awkwardly, but neither of them pulled away. Kisuke didn’t because he wanted to see if that book was really about what he thought it was about. He had no idea why the other boy wouldn’t let go. 

Kisuke wasn’t very good at reading people. 

“Are you looking at me like that because that’s a restricted book? It’s upper level kidō, isn’t it?” Kisuke sat back, excited. Hopping a little with pleasure, he let go to clap his hands, “Oh, you stole it, didn’t you? Oh please let me read it before you give it back. I mean, you will give it back eventually, won’t you? Because otherwise… I mean, the library. The library! You can’t steal permanently from the library, that would be… vile. Truly terrible. A crime against humanity, even.”

Kisuke smiled, because when you said things like that, it was better if you smiled. Smiling took the sting out.

Or so he’d been told.

Perhaps he’d been misinformed.

The boy looked around conspiratorially and shoved the book quickly into a worn leather satchel at his side. “Do I know you?”

“Urahara Kisuke,” Kisuke said touching his nose. He smiled again, because when you introducing yourself was definitely a friendly activity, requiring smiling. Oh, he was supposed to say something else now, what was it? “Nice to meet you? Be kind to me? Um… hello.” 

Adjusting his glasses, the boy stood up. “You’re a very weird person, Urahara Kisuke.”

“Yes, quite,” Kisuke agreed. He continued to sit cross-legged on the floor and frowned. “But you’re not doing things right, either. You’re supposed to tell me your name and say all those polite required-things, too... whatever they are.”

“I will not,” the boy said imperiously. “They serve no purpose. You won’t be nice to me just because I ask you to.”

“Actually, I probably would.” Kisuke hopped to his feet. “I quite like people who steal magic books and read about objective chemistry for fun.”

“How do you know I’m reading about chemistry for fun? I could taking that class this quarter.”

Kisuke dusted off his blue Academy hakama, trying to decide if he should call out this boy’s blatant lie. Apparently, it was a common courtesy to let people have their little lies from time to time, but there was something in the arrogant cast to this boy’s features that made Kisuke say, “But you’re not, because if you were in advanced chemistry, I’d already know your name.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we’d be classmates,” Kisuke explained.

The boy’s deep brown eyes widened in surprise, but then his expression shifted to scorn. “I could still be in your class. Do you know everyone in your class by sight?”

“Yes, I do.” 

“That’s not possible,” the boy said, starting to walk down the hall, briskly.

Kisuke followed after, his long legs easily keeping up. “You have a funny idea about what’s possible, Mr. I-Won’t-Share-My-Name. I might not be particularly good at remembering names and faces, but I’m pretty sure I can remember two other people. There are only three of us advanced enough to be taking that class. I know myself fairly well, and the other two are... Fujita and Kito. See, I can do it. I mean, yes, Kito is a bit forgettable, and, worse, one of the top one hundred most popular surnames in Japan and sometimes I think it might, in fact, be Ito, but certainly I’m close enough for government work, don’t you think? I mostly call them ‘sempai,’ at any rate. They’re both fifth years, and this is only my first. Not that they talk to me that much. Well, not that anyone does. I mean, I try to say the right things, but I wasn’t raised quite properly, you understand, not exactly by wolves, but…. Ah, actually, I should probably know manners better than I do, given where I was raised, but at any rate, I think I must be getting it all wrong. It’s very complicated. And well, social cues...” Kisuke made a helpless gesture and laughed. “Not my forte.”

“You don’t say,” the boy scoffed.

Kisuke frowned. He’d been trying to be nice, but this boy was astoundingly rude. “Says a person who can’t walk five feet down the hall before someone knocks the books from his hands. You’re not well liked either. Is it because of your attitude? Or is it because you’re wearing non-prescription glasses and stealing advanced books in order to appear smarter than you are?”

Kisuke remembered to add the smile.

It didn’t seem to work. 

The boy’s face grew hot. He adjusted his glasses so that the light reflected, hiding his eyes. “Aizen Sousuke is my name. You need to remember it, because I will show you how smart I really am. When I surpass you.”

“Oh! Very dramatic! That’s wonderful,” Kisuke managed a genuine smile now, “I’m looking forward to it. Good, good. Oh, and nice to meet you, Aizen Sousuke.”

They stood facing each other in the busy hall. People moved around them, like water parting for stones. 

Aizen continued to glare menacingly, so Kisuke felt emboldened to ask, “Do we know each other well enough that I can call you Aizen-kun yet?”

“What? No! Absolutely not,” Aizen pushed past Kisuke so hard that their shoulders hit. 

Kisuke took the opportunity to relieve Aizen’s bag of the burden of the stolen kidō book. Practiced fingers made light work. Kisuke had the book tucked safely into his own kosode in a second. He doubted even passers-by noticed the lift. Aizen certainly didn’t. He was too busy stalking away with his nose in the air.

“Okay, well, I’m sure we’ll see each other again,” Kisuke muttered, patting the spot where the book lay hidden against his chest. 

#

In fact, they met again, three hours later in the quad. 

Since the weather was warm, Kisuke sat beneath a big, broad maple that was positioned just west of the main dojo. The tree was old and gnarled and there was a hollow among the roots that fit perfectly for reading. Kisuke could curl up among the fecund smells and let the tree hold him close, almost like an embrace. Despite the constant throng of passing students, Kisuke could pretend he was alone with his books and this tree. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Kisuke spotted Aizen making his way across the yard. Aizen’s stride was full of purpose and intent. 

Possibly _murderous_ intent.

Kisuke considered sliding the book inside his kosode, but decided against it. Aizen already knew the book had been ‘borrowed,’ after all, or he wouldn’t be coming over here in such a rush. Kisuke shifted, however, so that, should he need to, he could rise to his feet quickly to defend himself. He kept a casual pose, however, and left his finger on the page he’d been studying.

Stopping to stand over Kisuke, Aizen blocked the light. “You’re a thief, Urahara.”

“We have that in common, Aizen,” Kisuke said pleasantly.

“I want my book back,” he demanded.

“It’s not your book,” Kisuke reminded him plainly. “It belongs to the library. In fact, it’s never supposed to leave the library. It’s not even supposed to be read without supervision.” That thought suddenly gave Kisuke pause. How awesome must the caper have been? How impressive the con to get behind the counter and lay hands on this restricted book? How masterful and exhilarating the boost? Kisuke felt a kind of blush of admiration coloring his cheeks. “I’ve misread you,” he said suddenly. “You are clever. Very, very clever.”

“I… what?” Aizen’s anger seemed to fade into a kind of stunned confusion. He blinked rapidly for a few seconds, and then shook his head in frustration. “Why is it so hard to have a normal interaction with you?”

“How did you do it? Steal the book, I mean,” Urahara said, standing up so suddenly that Aizen jumped back, as though surprised by his agility. “I’ll trade you. Tell me how you did it, and I’ll give it back.”

“To me,” Aizen stressed quickly. “The deal will be that, if I tell you, you will give the Kidō book back to me.”

Kisuke’s grin was sly, and, as such, felt natural on his face. He leaned a shoulder against the maple, and tipped an imaginary hat to Aizen. Yes, Aizen was far, far cleverer than Kisuke first imagined. “Point to you, Aizen Sousuke. Very well, I promise to give it back to you.”

“Do I need to clarify that you’ll give it back immediately after I finish telling my story?” Aizen asked, clearly starting to enjoy himself as well.

“No, of course not,” Kisuke said with a dismissive wave of his hand. The other clutched the book to his chest protectively, “Because I’d never agree to that. You must let me finish reading it.”

“Then, I shall withhold my story until you’ve finished reading,” Aizen said.

“Oh, that’s cruel,” Kisuke sighed.

“It’s only fair,” Aizen said.

“Yes, well, I prefer deals tipped in my favor,” Kisuke sniffed.

“As do I,” Aizen smiled. “We have that in common, as well.”

Kisuke was struck by how the devilish grin and mischievous twinkle in his eye changed Aizen’s entire appearance. They made him look more handsome, more natural. If only he’d rid himself of the vanity of those fake glasses. 

Well, perhaps that would be the next thing Kisuke would help himself to.

“Are we friends yet?” Kisuke wondered.

“Not in the least,” Aizen assured him. “Frenemies, perhaps, for the moment.”

Kisuke tested the sound of ‘frenemies’ out in his his mind several times before declaring: “I don’t think ‘frenemies’ is a real word. You made that up.”

Aizen startled again, “Of course it’s a real word, even if I did make it up. You can combine words to make a new one. That’s legitimate usage. And, anyway, I didn’t. It’s a common slang expression. Kids say it.” Aizen seemed suddenly unsure. “Don’t they? They do in books, at any rate.” He shook his head again, suddenly, almost violently. “Why does this happen? I can’t even think straight around you. Can’t you even be normal for five minutes?”

The tone of Aizen’s voice became exasperated, frustrated--reminding Kisuke of his mother. He ducked his head. “I do try. Honestly. I’m just deviant. I deviate.”

Kisuke looked up when he heard Aizen’s sigh. “Another thing which we may have in common,” Aizen said quietly. Turning his head, he seemed to watch the students as they moved together across the quad, rushing to and from classes, laughing, talking, in tight groups of three or more. He tucked his arms into the sleeves of his kisode. He seemed to decide something. Turning back to Kisuke, Aizen regarded him very seriously for a long moment before saying the most curious thing: “I’m not like the others, either. Not at all. I’ve just learned to pretend.”

“Is that what the glasses are about?” Kisuke asked. “Are you incognito? Disguised as someone else?”

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Aizen said, his voice deep, thoughtful and serious. He took off his glasses, wiping them clean on the silk of his kosode. “What do you see in my eyes? My father once told me that eyes are the window to the soul and, in mine, he could see pure evil.”

_Pure evil?_ That seemed a bit overwrought to Kisuke. 

However, he took a long, close look into Aizen’s eyes to see if he could discern the same. Kisuke first noticed that Aizen’s irises were a very rich shade of brown. Food adjectives came to mind: chocolatey, chestnut, cinnamon. Nothing threatening in the color, instead disturbingly delicious. 

But, without the square glasses framing it, there was a wolfish quality to Aizen’s gaze--intelligent, sharp, and predatory. 

Was it scary? Perhaps to someone other than Kisuke. Was it evil? If it was, Kisuke couldn’t understand how.

“Your father has an unhealthy attachment to hyperbole,” Kisuke said with a shrug. “Eyes are eyes, nothing more.”

Aizen laughed. “That’s true enough. However, I don’t think he was wrong about me.” Replacing the glasses, he gave Kisuke a measuring glance. He pointed to the mop of hair that fell over Kisuke’s brow. “You hide your eyes, too. Are you hiding... a monster?”

Hiding a monster?!

What a fascinating question, especially with the implication hanging there, in the air between them, that Aizen was one already, and looking for another of his kind! 

Was it more exaggeration? A metaphor? Or, was one of those questions you asked casually, but which really actually mattered a great deal to the asker? Kisuke had no idea, but he loved considering all the possibilities and implications.

And… he adored having being asked. Oh so very, very much.

In fact, this was one of the best conversations Kisuke had ever had in his life. It took every ounce of strength he had to to resist jumping into Aizen’s arms and giving him a giant bear hug. There was nothing trivial or commonplace in their back and forth, no stupid platitudes or rote call-and-responses. This was electrifying!

No one had ever talked to Kisuke this way before.

Which is why it pained Kisuke to have to admit, “I’m sorry, I don’t think so. I’m not a monster, so much as… perverted, divergent from the norm.”

“Ah,” Aizen said, clearly disappointed. 

Kisuke frowned, wanting to lie and say that he could certainly learn to become a monster, if it meant they could be friends. But that was the sort of fake-promise that other people made, the kind of untruth that was meant as kindness, but which eventually broke open a deep, deep gulf between souls that could never, ever be mended.

Kicking at the grass with his geta, Kisuke sighed. He watched the other students walking by in their happy little clots--always at least two, together.

Aizen lifted the corner of his mouth in a little, curious smile. “You still have a problem that I could help you with.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

He pointed to his nose, “This monster has learned how people behave, how to put on sheep’s clothing and walk among them, unnoticed. Mostly, at any rate,” he laughed again, “Except by you. You spotted me right off.”

“But people bully you,” Kisuke pointed out. “I’m not sure you’re passing as well as you think you are.”

“Perhaps not,” Aizen shrugged. “Still, I could teach you to pretend at least as well as I do,” he jerked his chin at the groups of students in their Academy uniforms, “To be one of them.”

“Yes,” Kisuke said, considering what Aizen offered seriously. He wasn’t sure he craved normalcy, though there was something about all the other students he deeply, deeply wished for. “Your presence could help me pass--both of us, really--if only because the one thing they all have that neither of us do, is friends. In fact, you and I may be the only souls here who came to Academy alone, entirely on our own. I’ve noticed, as I’m sure you have, too, that almost everyone arrives in pairs.”

Perhaps Aizen hadn’t noticed, because he seemed a little startled again. He turned to watch the flow of students, which was dwindling now that the bell had rung. “You mean those from the Rukongai.”

“Do I?”

“Obviously, it’s too difficult a journey otherwise,” Aizen said with authority he clearly didn’t possess. “To come singularly is far more common among those of us who come from inside the Seireitei.”

Kisuke made a noise of agreement, but he was beginning to think that Aizen lied so much that it was automatic. “You’re a noble, then?”

Aizen pulled himself up to his full height and smoothed his uniform, as if preening. “I come from a noble house.”

“Oh,” Kisuke chuckled a little at Aizen’s careful phrasing, “Well, when you put it like that, I do, too.”

Aizen’s gaze dropped to Kisuke’s geta and bare feet, then back up to his shaggy hair. He said nothing, but his expression made it clear he thought Kisuke the liar.

Kisuke set the Kidō book down on the top of his pile and began to gather them up. As he did, he explained, “If we’re just talking about blood and not breeding, I can, with utmost certainty, claim blood. Claim it enough, in fact,” he waved blindly in the direction of the private dormitories that were reserved for those of higher social rank, “That room and board is paid in blood... oh, as it were!”

Aizen stood stock still, staring in the direction Kisuke had pointed with a look of… jealousy? Desire? ….Hatred? All of the above?

Now was when Kisuke wished he could read expressions better. He didn’t know if he should tell the rest of the story or not. Would it help or make things worse?

Standing up, he lifted a foot to show off the wooden geta that so many people scorned. “My mother’s,” he explained. “Can you connect the dots?”

Kisuke braced himself for what was to come. He should be immune to the sting of the words people used to describe his mother’s profession, but he’d never developed those particular antibodies. It hurt, every time.

Aizen said nothing for several heartbeats. His mouth pressed into a thin line. His eyes looked everywhere but at Kisuke. Then, almost inaudibly, he whispered, “You’re recognized. Your father recognized you.”

An odd response, but not entirely uncommon. Kisuke shrugged. “He has only daughters. A son, by whatever means, is convenient. At least, for the moment, while the pity lasts, and until the daughters marry and the fortune and bloodline is secured.”

Aizen chuckled darkly. “They call us the bastards, but they’re the fickle bastardly ones, aren’t they?”

Oh. 

They had another thing in common, did they? 

Only, it seemed that Aizen craved the attention and notice that Kisuke felt more than a little ambivalent to have received. 

Kisuke shouldered his bag, trying to decide what to say. He couldn’t conjure any hatred for the man who’d accidentally impregnated his usually exceedingly careful mother. In fact, felt nothing at all toward the man, except a kind of uncomfortable sense of obligatory gratitude, towards this stranger of a nobleman whose strong sense of responsibility caused him to endure the scorn and disapproval of clan in order to provide for a child abandoned by sudden, unexpected death. 

The injection of status and money into Kisuke’s life was…. painfully awkward, distressing even, but Academy had allowed a quick escape, an easy out, a way to eschew discussions of formal adoption, which no one had honestly wanted, least of all Kisuke. 

“I loved the teahouse,” Kisuke said, in lieu of anything better to say on the subject of bastards and fathers. “So many interesting people came and went.”

“I’m no whore’s son,” Aizen said dismissively, almost proudly, as if he was pleased to have something to look down on Kisuke for. “My mother was a lady’s maid.”

He knew it wasn’t kind or appropriate, but Aizen had used that horrible word, and so Kisuke said flatly, “How nice for you. Too bad your father gave only the one fuck. To your mother.”

Aizen sucked in a hiss of breath as the barb struck home. Urahara didn’t feel any joy at having landed it so squarely. If he felt anything, it was loss. He’d never get to use ‘Aizen-kun’ now, but neither could he take it back, once it had been said.

But, then, quite out of the blue, Aizen laughed. It was more hollow and forced than happy-sounding, but he said, “True enough. My father is a fucker, in all senses of that word, and he continues to fuck me over. I’m sure you’ve guessed, I stay in the common dorm with nothing but thieving Rukongai rats for company. Me,” he snarled and spat now, “who came in through the front gate, bunking down with that filth.” 

Filth? Seemed a father’s unhealthy hyperbole had been inherited.

“I have space. You could room with me,” Kisuke offered, since otherwise he would have to point out that he was one of those Rukongai thieves Aizen seemed to dislike so much. 

“I don’t want your pity,” Aizen growled.

It was a big room, a waste of space when occupied only by himself. But, Kisuke shrugged, “As you wish.” They’d been walking in the direction of the exclusive dorms for some time now, so Kisuke added, “But you should see what you’re turning down. We even have a private laboratory and kidō practice range.”

A greedy glint flashed in Aizen’s eyes for a second before he adjusted his glasses, as though to hide it. He lifted a shoulder in perfect imitation of vague disinterest, “Why not?”

Kisuke didn’t bother to hide his smile. He knew what would happen. After all, he, too, had intended to turn down the ridiculously expensive and excessive accommodations… until he saw them. Then, pride had taken an instant backseat to the benefits of such extravagance. “Yes,” Kisuke repeated, “Why not?”

#

Kisuke was right about Aizen, he wanted in the second after he got the complete tour. They made arrangements for when Aizen would bring his belongings over and discussed copying the key. With all that boring if necessary minutia settled, Aizen hung in the doorway for a moment before asking another one of his curious questions: “What will your neighbors think to see me moving in?”

The neighbors? Did they matter?

Oh. Perhaps their opinion did matter to someone who felt very conscious of his status. 

Kisuke tugged his ear, “I suppose they’ll think I’ve taken another lover.”

“Oh,” Aizen adjusted his glasses a little nervously. “Another?”

Kisuke could only shrug helplessly. It’d been a sort of accidental thing, brought on by misreading social cues, and then not really wanting to disappoint. There’d be no real chemistry because, of course, if anything, Kisuke was sapiosexual: attracted to smart people. The young man in question had been… well, it was unkind to say so, but he was beautiful, but not very brilliant. Interesting and fascinating in his own ways, but… well, not enough. It hadn’t been sustainable.

Aizen seemed to be considering the implications of moving in anew. 

At first Kisuke was surprised by just how much public opinion mattered to his new friend, but then it occurred to him that there might be something else in Aizen’s sudden hesitation. 

“Oh!” Kisuke said with a smile, “It’s not like that with you. I mean… That is,... not yet, at any rate.”--should he deny the attraction? Probably other people would, but oh, well, he was still talking--“It’s a bit soon. I mean, you are clever and I do like that, but certainly not, if you’re not interested. It’s not like I can’t keep my pants on… oh, uh, actually I do seem to fall into bed quite easily; I’m surprisingly sexually curious--interested in all sorts of people and activities. But not normally aggressively so. I’d say you’re safe with me.”

Aizen chuckled, “Oh, well… I suppose that’s good to know.”

Kisuke nodded, but he was thinking that the one goal he should set for himself was to stop talking so much. It was one thing to not be good at reading people, but quite another to ramble on forever and ever, and never know when to shut the hell up. He needed some kind of reminder. Maybe he should start carrying one of his mother’s fans and put it over his face when it was time to stop. Girls did things like that all the time, and while he could probably adopt their giggle and straight-forward hand-over-their-mouths, perhaps it would behoove him to try to be a little less obviously entirely female-identified. 

I wasn’t that Kisuke thought of himself as a girl, or even all that girlish, but he grew up in a teahouse, entirely surrounded by women. Being raised by women in a women-only world, Kisuke found men and men’s work baffling at times. It was alien to him. Utterly foreign. 

Though he was determined to learn about it, especially since, apparently, men did science.

Or so people continually told him.

On the other hand, men had a tendency, he’d noticed, to claim certain traits and skills belonged exclusively to their sex, particularly when a woman was better at it than they were.

And Kisuke had come here specifically in pursuit of at least one woman, whom he hoped to catch up with before she surpassed them all and disappeared out of reach.

Shutara Senjumaru.

But, there were others he had to catch up to, as well. Perhaps it was foolish to take on the distraction of an interesting roommate when there was so much he had to get done. Kisuke turned from the door and waved Aizen off, “Honestly, it’s fine if you’ve changed your mind. Probably for the best, really. Nobles have so little to do, and so they gossip like hounds.”

Dogs didn’t have any behavior remotely like gossiping, but Kisuke couldn’t be bothered to try to make a better analogy. 

“Really, you should go before someone spots you,” Kisuke added when he noticed Aizen hadn’t budged. “Boy toy is hardly a nickname that would suit you.”

“What the hell just happened? You changed your mind very quickly.” Aizen said, stepping inside the threshold. He slid the door closed. “Are you hurt by my reaction? Do you think I’m offended that you keep company with men?”

“How could I be hurt by something that isn’t true?” Kisuke asked, quite sincerely. At Aizen’s confused look, he explained, “Oh, yes, my previous lover was also a man, but the one before that was a woman. Gender is really my very last consideration when selecting a bedmate.” 

Kisuke put his hand on his lips, briefly, just a little smack, to remind himself that he did not need to go into detail about his sexual history. For all Kisuke knew, Aizen might be the sort to find any discussion of sex or sexuality to be upsetting or taboo, even. 

And people didn’t react well when you told them that you were particularly fond of yokai, who had a tendency to change not only gender but also form, so, really, being entirely human wasn’t even a requirement.

Fur optional!

“Right, well,” Aizen seemed to need to say something to collect his thoughts, before plunging on, “Regardless, it doesn’t bother me. I mean, what you are... or aren’t. Um, sexually.”

For someone who lied so often, Aizen didn’t manage that one particularly well. Though, perhaps it was calculatingly adorably awkward.

“Great,” Kisuke said, because there didn’t seem to be any other appropriate reply. 

“So, I can still live here, with you?” Aizen asked.

Kisuke sighed. He flopped down onto a pile of pillows, feeling a little exhausted for all of the fun he’d had. “I guess if you are certain you can bare the brunt of a vicious rumormill, it doesn’t much matter to me.”

Aizen glanced over his shoulder, as if imagining eyes on him even now. “You really think it’ll be like that?”

Kisuke nodded, “Rich people are vicious. Surely, I don’t need tell you that.”

“No,” Aizen said solemnly.

Aizen continued to stand there so long, Kisuke thought maybe the answer would be ‘no, thank you’ after all, which was a bit of a relief. How did he always end up with men moving in with him so quickly? Must be a secret talent. 

Or the fact that he kept offering.

Kisuke couldn’t deny that it was lonely and empty here. 

He missed the bustle of the teahouse, and, if it weren’t for the lab access, would be happy to simply trade accommodations with Aizen.

“I’ll manage the rumor mill,” Aizen said finally. He nodded to himself. “It’ll be good practice for me.”

Practice?

There Aizen went being all interesting and curious again. Kisuke lay his head back and closed his eyes: either this was going to the most fun he’d had in a long time, or it was going to be very, very tiresome. 

Actually, it would probably be both.

After all, Yoruichi had been.

Opening his eyes, Kisuke smiled. “Well, then. I suppose you’d best bring your things. I’ll order food, since we missed last call at the mess hall.”

“Order? Oh, of course… because you have servants here,” Aizen nodded approvingly. “Yes. I’ll get my things immediately.”

#

With Aizen gone, Kisuke rang for a servant and considered his possibly ill-advised choice in a new roommate. Finding a piece of paper among the detritus on his desk, Kisuke made a list of the things he knew about Aizen.

> 1\. ~~A thief.~~ Con artist AND a thief.  
>  2\. Hiding something under fake, non-prescription glasses. “Monster” (?!) If so, what kind?

After all, Kisuke knew at least one person that some people might categorize as a ‘monster,’ at least, technically. Yokai were monsters. People told ghost stories about them and warned you not to converse with them on foggy bridges and such. Yet, while Yoruichi had a mind and temperament of quicksilver, Kisuke had never known a more just and noble person in the entirety of the Soul Society. 

Kisuke didn’t think that Aizen was admitting to being that sort of monster.

After all, he’d very distinctly used the word ‘evil.’

Not a lot of people self-described as evil. Most people that Kisuke considered ‘evil’ actually thought that the horrible things they did were what was best either for themselves and/or for society at large. Evil people most often thought they were good people. 

So, it was a little odd to call yourself ‘evil.’ True, Aizen had said that his father had called him ‘evil,’ but he’d gone on to say something about agreeing with that assessment, hadn’t he? 

That was probably the most curious thing about Aizen Sousuke, so Kisuke decided to make a note of it as well.

> 3\. Evil (?) (Why would a person call themselves that, ever?)  
>  4\. Unrecognized bastard. (Bitter.)  
>  5\. Wants restricted magic… why?

Kisuke’s thoughts were interrupted by a polite knock on the door. Even though he was quite sure it was only the servant, Kisuke stuffed the note into the pocket of his hakama. When he slid open the door, the young maid, a girl named Hotaru, let out a horrified squeak and dropped to her knees. She pressed her face to the floor and stammered, “You rang, my lord?”

Kneeling down to be on the floor with her, Kisuke tipped his face down in order to try to look her in the eye and said, “I’m sorry to trouble you, but I would like to order dinner… erm, for two. And… I’ll need the house key copied…. Again.”

Oh, how Kisuke longed for his mother’s fan. He would love to hide the color blossoming on his cheek right now.

Hotaru lifted her head curiously at that. Light brown eyes twinkled mischievously and she gave him a sly smile as she said, “Oh, Master Urahara! .... So soon? Aren’t we only just over the last one?”

“You know I never really loved Kaede,” Kisuke sighed. “And this one is just a roommate. I can’t say for sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say he’s fairly straight… maybe even asexual.”

Hotaru covered her face to giggle into her sleeve a little. “But, you don’t know, do you?”

“No, of course not,” Kisuke smiled. “I never understand men.”

“Who does?” she agreed. Sitting up now, they both knelt at the threshold, like friends, even though he was in his Academy uniform and she in servants’ blacks. Shyly, she asked: “Is he very handsome?”

Kisuke considered the question. “I would say so, yes, but in a very understated way, almost as if he wants to be only good-looking enough not to stand out....”

That was another red flag, wasn’t it? He should write that down.

“Very mysterious!” Hotaru breathed. 

Kisuke nodded. Despite himself, he knew this air of mystery was a large part of the attraction to Aizen, after all. “I’ve made a list of reasons to stay away from him,” he told her. “He’s terrible… not just for me, but probably everyone. Possibly even dangerous.”

Her eyes went wide. “Dangerous?” she repeated, clearly excited by the idea. “Men like that… oh, Master Urahara, they’re so hard to resist!” She dropped her voice very low, and blushingly added: “A bad boy.”

“I know,” he nodded. Thinking of Yoruichi and her tendency to lead him straight into all sorts of trouble, so much of it wickedly fun, he agreed, “My type.”

They sat together for a moment in companionable silence, likely both considering the various tumultuous affairs they’d had with the various bad boys of their respective lives. Hotaru broke their reverie by reaching out to touch Kisuke’s knee briefly, conspiratorially, “Are you sure I should have a key made?”

Kisuke clucked his tongue, “I’ve already promised him one. He’s bringing his things.”

“Oh dear,” she nodded. They sat for another long moment, this time commiserating silently. Finally, she bowed and said, “I’ll have the kitchen make something nice.”

“But not too intimate! I told him I wouldn’t seduce him,” Kisuke said.

She smiled, “Yes, of course. It will be a very workmanlike meal. A meal for two men who are only friends. Hearty!”

“Thank you,” Kisuke said. There was an awkward moment before Kisuke realized she couldn’t get up until he did. Quickly, he pulled himself to his feet, thanked her again and said good-bye before closing the door.

He hung against the doorjamb for a long moment wondering what Yoruichi would make of it all. He could almost feel the cuff she’d land on his head and the sharp, if loving, “Idiot!” He flinched at the phantom sensation.

_Gods_ , he thought: _she’s right. I’m a fool to let this man into my life._

#

Aizen arrived at the same time as the food, and, Kisuke could tell by Hotaru's reaction that she did, in fact, consider Aizen quite handsome. Kisuke worried that, given his thwarted station, Aizen might be dismissive of Hotaru, but he accepted her flustered fussing with grace and kindness. Even a little flirtatiously.

Straight. 

Definitely one hundred percent ‘red-blooded,’ as they said.

Well, that was one problem solved--or at least mitigated. If Kisuke accidentally seduced, it would be rebuffed with disinterest.

With Hotaru gone, Kisuke reached for the sake, only to find his hand colliding with Aizen’s. Kisuke pulled back quickly, “Oh, sorry. Yes, help yourself.”

“Help myself?” Aizen repeated with a baffled sort of chuckle. “I pour.”

Oh, right, social status stuff again. But, this was ridiculous, they were exactly the same! Half-noble bastards, the both of them. So, as soon as Aizen had the sake bottle in hand, Kisuke reached for the serving chopsticks, “Fine, but then I’ll divvy up the food. Yes, yes,” Urahara said impatiently waving off the argument he imagined Aizen making, “This is my house, but now it’s yours as well, so there’s none of this distance between us. None.”

Aizen made a little unhappy noise and frowned as Kisuke placed a large portion of grilled mackerel on his plate. 

“I don’t understand why you crave status,” Kisuke said honestly. “It’s awkward and makes it even more difficult to talk to the truly interesting people.”

After a pause to think about this, Aizen’s frown deepened, “Doesn’t money and social class bring the truly interesting people closer?”

“No, not in the least,” Kisuke insisted. Then, he changed his mind with a little shrug, “Oh, I suppose poets are interesting in their way, and money can buy a scientific education and books, but I’m talking about interesting people, people who know real things, valuable things.”

Before Kisuke could stop him, Aizen ladled out a bowl of nikujaga, meat and potato stew, for him. Then, he picked up his own bowl and filled it. “I suppose I find a scientific education extremely valuable,” Aizen said carefully. “Perhaps you would, too, if it were denied you.”

Oh.

Yes, of course.

Kisuke felt a blush of shame creep up his collar. “My apologies,” he said, with a little duck of his head. Chemistry required equipment and equipment was expensive. “I forget that not everyone’s first love is natural science. My first laboratory was free. It was the tea house’s garden and the forest beyond. But.. yes, yes, of course equipment and raw materials are valuable to the chemist. Invaluable, even. I should have thought.”

Aizen sipped his soup. “If you’re not a chemist, why are you in advanced chemistry?”

Kisuke shrugged, his blush darkening. “I tested in?”

“Right,” Aizen said, not bothering to hide his jealousy. “Of course.”

A change of subject might make things less awkward, Kisuke decided. “What does a chemist want with an advanced Kidō book?”

Aizen’s smile was slippery, and he mocked Kisuke’s uncertainty as he said: “I thought I’d revive the ancient science of alchemy.”

“Oh,” Kisuke breathed. And before he could stop himself, in a rush, he said, “If you’re serious, I might be in love with you a little.”

Aizen laughed, a deep and rich sound. Charming, particularly with his eyes alight and dancing like that, “I’m serious. Deeply serious.”

Kisuke leaned in, resting his chin in his hand, and said, “Then you’d better tell me all about it. Every last thing.”

#

They talked well into the night. They kept poor Hotaru up with them, fetching more and more bottles of sake.

Finally, quite drunk on amazing conversation and smooth sake, Kisuke blurted out: “You’re quite lovely, actually. Smart. Funny. Charming. Why do you insist you’re a monster?”

Aizen, who still managed seiza after all these hours, stared thoughtfully into his sake bowl. “You said you were a naturalist. Did you ever dissect anything… awkward?”

“Oh gods, yes,” Kisuke said with a flourish. “I don’t know if you know this, but house pets are strictly off limits! You’re not to take apart the cat’s kittens, even if they’re already dead. Nor… for some unknown reason, the farm animals. Unless you’re the local butcher, then it’s fine, which is why I apprenticed with him for three years.” Kisuke rummaged around in his pockets sloppily, “I used to have to carry a list. My mother and Yoruichi made it for me, because the oddest things are actually okay to take apart in order to see how they work. Frogs! You can apparently take apart as many frogs as you like. Rats, as well, which I don’t entirely understand since if they’re pets, they’re off. Dogs and cats, definitely a ‘No,’ even stray ones that don’t belong to anyone because… well, I don’t actually know why, but it’s on this list that way and you must strictly adhere to the list.” Kisuke wagged his finger in remembered admonishment. “Bugs you can pin on things, no one cares. Yoruichi tried to tell me that cute things were always off, but how was I to know from cute? Especially when they tell me bunnies are actually okay… *if* they’re wild… and no one is hungry.” Kisuke let out a sigh. “Bunnies were too confusing. I had to leave them alone. Which was a shame because they were a fairly large mammal I could reliably catch.”

“Your friends made you a list,” Aizen said, his eyes still downcast. “How I envy you.”

“Oh, the list was dead useful,” Kisuke agreed. “I could make a copy of the list for you.”

“It’s a little too late for me,” Aizen said. Looking up, he gave Kisuke a sad sort of smile. 

Kisuke’s addled mind struggled to understand why. He must have taken apart something, too. And, it was like that first kitten. Shocking to the others. “But… science. You were sciencing. A scientist!”

“They said I was an evil little monster with no conscience,” Aizen said. “And when I said I didn’t understand why it mattered, no one gave me a list or apprenticed me to a butcher, but instead called me soulless and cast me and my mother out. And, I was sure they were right about me because I fantasized about taking them apart the exact same way.”

“People are on the very top of the ‘no’ list,” Kisuke nodded in understanding. “Even the infirm. You’re really not allowed to experiment on people.” He sighed, disappointed. “Ever.”

“Such a shame, really,” Aizen agreed with a sleepy yawn. “Though, I think there might be a loophole in Hollows. No one considers them people, as such.”

Kisuke sobered at the thought. “Yes, they’re not at all cute, and kind of a nuisance. Oh! Like bugs! And you can do whatever you want to bugs! Do you truly think that would be okay? They’re former people, after all, and dead people are definitely on the ‘no’ list.”

Aizen chuckled, finally unwinding his legs and giving in to a sinuous stretch. “You’re the one with all the luck. You should ask.”

“You can’t ask just anyone about what’s on the approved list; I learned that the hard way,” Kisuke said, getting up to fetch the futons from the closet. As much as he would dearly love to lay them out side by side so they could continue talking, Kisuke had already decided to give Aizen the bedroom and move himself into the space he used as the workroom. “It will have to wait until I see Yoruichi again.”

“This is twice you’ve mentioned Yoruichi,” Aizen said. “Are they someone I should be jealous of?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m even jealous of Yoruichi!” Kisuke said, handing Aizen a pile of linens. “She’s everything awesome--ninja, princess, kitty--all rolled into a giant ball of sexy.”

Aizen’s eyebrows rose appreciatively. “She’s a lover?”

“A best friend since childhood,” Kisuke nodded. “We’ve rolled around together, like anyone would given half a chance, but I could never assume something so intimate and possessive-sounding as ‘lover.’ No one can lay a claim on Yoruichi, but Yoruichi Shihōin herself.”

“She sounds like quite the woman,” Aizen said. “And, Shihōin… a True First?”

Kisuke shrugged, “Apparently the heir.”

Aizen seemed to have briefly forgotten how to breathe. He sputtered for several moments before repeating, “Your best friend and sometimes lover is a True First heir? How? How do you get this kind of luck? Why? Why is the world so unfair?”

Kisuke didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never thought himself particularly lucky, but he was beginning to understand that perhaps the greatest fortune of all was to be loved unconditionally by two amazing, brilliant women. It had never before occurred to Kisuke that someone might see science and call it a monstrosity… at least not after the initial surprise wore off. 

Even though, now that it had been pointed out, it was patently obvious that was exactly what his mother and Yoruichi had been protecting him from with their lists and... sublimation via apprenticeships. Which, in retrospect, was such a clever way to turn taunts of ‘butcher’ into an irrefutable fact, a job title, nothing more sinister than fact. In fact, he’d never, until this moment, realized that most likely the neighborhood kids had meant to insult him, hurt him… shame him.

Poor Aizen, made to feel inhuman and cast out for doing once what Kisuke had done a thousand times.

“I wish I could go back in time,” Kisuke said quietly, as he unrolled the futon in the master bedroom. “I would find you and give you the list before you… made whatever poor choice in experimental subject. We could have gone out to the big pond and captured and dissected frogs--however many we wanted, all day long. We could have learned the most efficient way to slaughter cattle together.”

Aizen blinked for several seconds. Then, he let out a laugh. “You make that sound so idyllic. Would we walk home together, arm in arm, covered in blood?”

Sometimes Kisuke had walked home covered in blood, but this was one of those taunts, the ones meant to hurt. 

But, it didn’t sting. Not at all.

In fact, it just made Kisuke feel more sorry for Aizen.

“Yes, maybe so,” Kisuke said, turning to leave Aizen to finish making up his bed. “Maybe we could have been friends. Real friends.”

#

Kisuke fell into a troubled sleep after that, filled with scattered dreams of dissections gone wrong--sometimes coming back to life or being performed in awkward places--only to awaken with Aizen standing in his doorway. 

Brown curls mussed by sleep hung every which way. Glasses, hastily put on, slanted crookedly on his nose.  
Yes, handsome like this too, in a deceptively charming sort of way.

“Can I ask you something?” Aizen asked.

Aizen held a tea mug to his nose, which Kisuke smiled to see, because it meant someone had made the tea already. Also, Aizen’s questions, even first-thing-in-the-morning questions were bound to be entertaining, so Kisuke nodded happily, “Of course!”

“I lay awake much of last night, thinking about all the things we talked about.” 

Kisuke waited, because that wasn’t a question, just the set-up to one. Belatedly, he remembered he should probably make some kind of encouraging noise, like ‘uh-huh’ or nod, but luckily, Aizen continued on without one.

“If a zanpakutō is created every time a shinigami is born, why aren’t we born with them already manifested?” He sipped his tea and then added, “Why all this hide-and-seek?”

Kisuke sat in bed for several minutes before announcing, “Let’s get breakfast sent up!”

“That’s… not an answer,” Aizen noted, though he dutifully trotted out into the other room to pull the bell for the servant.

When he returned, Kisuke said, “Well, no, of course not, but you don’t really want the short answer, do you?”

“There’s a short answer?” He frowned, looking angry again. Then, he seemed to put his mind to the question and gave a dismissive sort of nod, “Oh… yes, because they’re already part of our souls. I didn’t mean that. I meant, why the system? Why must we attend Academy and wait until some authority grants us an asauchi, when all asauchi are are empty vessels we must fill ourselves, anyway?”

Kisuke was surprised. Most people had no idea how ausachi worked. Certainly, Urahara had thought he was the only first year who knew that. And, now Kisuke wondered how it was Aizen had uncovered the truth, since, admittedly, it was only talking to Yoruichi about hers that had led Kisuke to his own discovery.

“I… suppose it’s to give people with less power an advantage?” Kisuke offered. “You know, a sort of leg up for people who aren’t as strong.”

“Yes, but why?” Aizen insisted. “Why even have shinigami who aren’t strong enough to manifest their own zanpakutō?”

It was a legitimate question despite the scorn and arrogance in Aizen’s tone. Kisuke rubbed his face and looked around the room for his uniform. Spotting it, he pulled himself out of the warm covers to dress. 

Aizen’s face went red and he quickly turned his back as though to offer modesty where none was needed.

“I suppose,” Kisuke said, thoughtfully. Shouldering into shitagi, he tied up the sides, “It’s to allow people to advance at their own rate. After all, if the zanpakutō has been born, the shinigami must eventually rise to claim it, neh?”

“No,” Aizen said, his back still firmly to Kisuke. Kisuke found he liked his view less well. “Not everyone achieves shikai in their lifetime. Bankai is, for many, well out of reach.”

“But the potential is still there?”

“You sound unsure,” Aizen said, turning slightly to show off a sly smile.

Kisuke rubbed his head. “It’s just that I see your point. It’s inefficient at best.” Having tied up the kosode, he pulled on his hakama and began the complicated process getting them on. “But, then I suppose humans are generally inefficient animals, as so there are allowances.”

“Shinigami aren’t human,” Aizen said that note of derision returning to his tone.

“Well, I was... once. Or maybe not me, but certainly the other souls in the Rukongai,” Kisuke reminded him with a soft smile. “And who knows where your soul came from, really? Court of Pure Souls, yes, but where before that? After all, you can’t get something from nothing. It breaks the law of conservation of energy.”

Aizen was silent, considering. Softly, he said, “I hadn’t considered that.” He sounded shocked at the idea, but still enough of a scientist to set that feeling aside for the bigger, more interesting question: “Where did my soul come from then, if not the wheel of reincarnation?”

Finally finished with the hakama, Kisuke let out a big yawn. “Now that is a question for which I don’t have a good answer.”

#

After eating, they went their separate ways. During the day, however, Kisuke kept being handed notes from people. At first he was excited that perhaps he’d stumbled into some campus-wide game, but, upon opening them, all the notes were in Aizen’s perfect calligraphy. The first one said, “A piece of the Soul King?” The second said, “Hell?” The third, “Evolved from lesser creatures?” 

And, thus Aizen’s thought process followed Kisuke through his day, until at lunch, in the Mess Hall, Aizen came thundering up to him demanding, “Why didn’t you answer any of my notes?”

“Oh,” Kisuke said, honestly. “I thought you were just thinking out loud… or on paper, as it were. I do it all the time, I just usually tuck the notes in my pocket.”

Aizen blushed a little, especially when he noticed several people looking at them. Sitting down quickly next to Kisuke, he said quietly, “Well, yes, I was doing that in a way, but I’d hoped you’d reply, anyway. Is this puzzle only for me? I thought, perhaps, we were sharing it.”

Sharing a puzzle? Was that even possible?

“I’m not sure I’m as invested as you are in where pure souls come from,” Kisuke admitted, lifting the bowl of miso to his lips. 

“You should be,” Aizen said, after taking a minute to say grace over his own tray of food. “It’s all part of the fabric of the universe. After all, the power of Rukongai shinigami make sense, given that they are at least partly Hollow. Where does the power of a pure soul come from?”

A student sitting across from Aizen laughed. “Don’t you have that backwards? Pure souls have power because they’re pure.”

Aizen gave the young woman a withering glance. “Yes, and because the sun shines on it, the color white is brilliant.”

She seemed to miss his oozing sarcasm. “Well, now, be kind,” Kisuke said. “White does seem bright in the sunshine, blindingly so. Perhaps there’s something to that. Maybe pure souls are of a sort that are a better conduit to power, just as the color white is the most reflective of the sun.”

Aizen ignored the interruptor to turn to Kisuke, “You think our souls are actually made of different things?”

Kisuke opened his mouth and then shut it. He had ideas about that, but, in point of fact, he didn’t know. He actually had no idea what constituted a soul. No evidence. No data. Nothing.

“Do we learn this?” Kisuke wondered out loud, though he realized he was looking at the students across the table from him as he said it because some of them shrugged in response. “Is there a class on souls?”

“No,” Aizen said. “I checked the catalogue exhaustively this morning.”

“Well, we should form a study group!” Kisuke said happily.

Aizen all but dropped his head in a kind of relieved defeat. “Yes. Yes, thank you. That’s exactly what I’ve been wanting you to say all day long.”

#

It never occurred to Kisuke that he might get in trouble asking about souls. He ran into his first problem, almost right away, the very next day, in chemistry, when, inspired by the idea of a study group, he foolishly asked his colleagues whether they thought souls could be reduced to a formula and whether or not they wanted to spend some extracurricular time trying to make one. 

He was met with stony silence.

The words ‘perverted’ started to be bandied about, again, and then the instructor asked him to stay after..

Kisuke tried and failed to look contrite. He thought to tuck his hands behind his back, but he couldn’t keep himself from bouncing a bit on his toes. He supposed it made him look nervous, but, the truth was, he was already bored. 

The instructor shuffled papers around his desk, importantly. He clearly wasn’t actually doing it for any real purpose or then… to reassure his authority? Remind Kisuke that he graded the papers? Most likely, Kisuke was supposed to be moved to some sort of emotional response.

That never worked. 

He’d keep waiting patiently if the instructor was anything much to look at, but he wasn’t. His face was like his mind: sturdy, steady, and competent. Perfectly functional, if perfectly average.

“I don’t suppose you’re giving me that look because I failed to invite you to my Soul Study Group?” Kisuke asked with a little hopeful sigh.

“Making souls is forbidden.”

“Is it?” Genuinely surprised, Kisuke made a quick, exciting connection. “Then it’s been done! You don’t forbid impossible things, after all!”

The instructor shook his head from side to side, slowly. He gave Kisuke a stern look from where he sat behind his desk. “Step away from this one, Mr. Urahara. You’re a brilliant student. I’d hate to see you wasted in the Maggot’s Nest.”

Kisuke frowned. “Are there a lot of scientists in that prison?”

“More than you know.”

Well, that was a misleading and inaccurate phrase, since Kisuke hardly knew any real scientists, and so more than almost none was hardly an impressive number. Still, the point, if sloppily made, was taken. 

Not only was there forbidden Kidō, but there were also forbidden thoughts.

Just to be clear, Urahara asked: “I’m not allowed to pursue this?”

The instructor looked so obviously relieved, Kisuke could actually parse it. “That’s right,” he said. “We don’t tamper with souls. We leave the immutable and immortal to the gods.”

Kisuke might have been fine with this restriction--it was just another thing to add to a list, after all. But then the instructor had had to go and add that bit about the gods, which was just annoying. People used gods as an excuse when they ran out of better arguments. ‘Leave such-and-such to the gods’ was just a way of saying ‘I’m not going to argue with you any more, just do what I say.’

That pissed Kisuke off. 

Also, souls weren’t immutable. Honestly, anyone could see that. If they were, no one would ever achieve bankai because it simply wouldn’t be possible to gain any more power than you already had. Zanpakuto made visible changes in some cases. 

But, Kisuke did not need Yoruichi to coach him through this answer. He knew what he was supposed to do now. “I understand,” Kisuke said with a solemn bow. 

Fortunately, understanding the rules was not the same thing as agreeing not to break them.

#

“Someone’s beat us to it,” Kisuke said around a forkful of pickles. They’d order dinner in, which was becoming a habit. Hotaru had excitedly brought a new dish that the chef was experimenting with, some new Human World craze, a thing called curry. It appeared to involve a lot of potatoes and a thin, breaded pork cutlet. Kisuke quite liked it, but then he was fond of new fads. “My chemistry instructor let slip that someone has already made a soul from nothing.”

“Is that our goal?” Aizen smiled around his bowl of sake.

“Well,” Kisuke shrugged, “The idea interests me now that I’m not allowed. I suddenly want to make all the souls and shove them into… something…” hmm, like what? Some kind of surrogate body? THAT would be fun to design! “... and cause mischief.”

Aizen chuckled. He seemed a little less impressed with the new dish, pushing around the big chunks of carrot in the thick yellow-brown sauce. Perhaps he just didn’t like carrots. Or the sauce; it did have a rather strong flavor. “I would rather fix existing souls, myself.”

“I hadn’t realized we were broken.”

It was meant as a joke, but Aizen returned a serious: “Very.”

Kisuke made a little noise because he had a terrible premonition that the conversation was about to make a sudden turn into ‘metaphorical’ or, worse, ‘emotional’ language, which was one area he felt intensely incompetent in. He decided to abruptly change the subject, “Have you heard of the Maggot’s Nest?”

Aizen’s sudden spike in reiatsu shattered the sake bowl in his hands. No, a better description would be… ‘atomized.’ It was simply gone. Shattered into so many pieces so suddenly that it… disappeared.

Kisuke felt the wave of spiritual pressure, brief though it was, slam into his chest like an anvil. The air rushed from his lungs in a huff. Before he could raise his own defenses, something deep in his chest cracked.

Sucking in a breath, Aizen touched the rims of his glasses with both hands and bowed his head. As quickly as it had appeared, the pulse of reiatsu was gone. “That… I’m sorry. I haven’t lost control like that in decades. You surprised me.”

Gingerly feeling his ribs, Kisuke agreed. “Apparently.”

Kisuke waited as Aizen took in several steadying breaths. His head stayed bowed, until he finally looked up and caught Kisuke’s gaze. “I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

“Don’t be silly,” Kisuke waved him off. “There’s no ledger between. Especially about secrets. I have no desire to play tit for tat with secrets. Definitely not! Oh, but maybe this is one of those things you need to talk about? Unburden yourself? I would certainly listen quite intently; I honestly didn’t know a person could use reiatsu to atomize something like that. That’d be dead useful if you could focus it properly.”

“Indeed,” Aizen nodded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “I’ve not had much practice using it for anything. Clearly,” he touched his glasses again, and this time Kisuke felt Aizen’s spiritual pressure undulate with the gesture, “I need more practice keeping it hidden.”

“No, you do quite well, very light under a bushel and all that,” Kisuke assured him, impatiently. He was excited to have finally figured something out, so he blurted: “That’s what the glasses are for then? Some kind of physical mnemonic? To remind you to exercise control?”

Aizen’s eyes widened, but then he smiled. “You’re far too clever. You might be dangerous.”

“Yes, yes, everyone says that, moving on. I’m right then, am I?”

“You know you are,” Aizen said, removing his glasses to clean them. He held them up to the lantern-light, as though inspecting their cleanliness. “A gift from my mother. I was four or five, only just barely old enough to understand what I was meant to do.” He put them back on his face and ran a hand through his hair, mussing the already tousled curls. “The Onmitsukidō’s Detention Corps had their eye on me since birth. Or, possibly, from the womb.”

“So you are in disguise,” Kisuke said. He picked up his bowl of curry to shovel the last of the sauce soaked rice into his mouth. “Is this your monster?”

“One of them,” Aizen acknowledged plainly.

“The other is your penchant for dissection of things on the off list,” Kisuke guessed.

“Yes.”

“Do you have any others?”

Aizen hunted around for a replacement sake bowl for the one he’d disappeared. Not finding anything suitable, he upended the sake bottle into his mouth. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he shrugged, “Seems likely.”

Kisuke frowned. He was so very terrible at reading people, but something about Aizen seemed... sad? Lonely? Or… as though a wall had suddenly gone up between them? “Is this why you want to fix souls?”

“For once, you misunderstand,” Aizen said with a small smile to take the sting out of his words. “Yes, it’s true that I believe my soul is broken, but only in the way all of ours are. What’s missing, though, is more power, not less. These are two different quests. My interest in fixing souls has to do with…. “ This usually articulate man seemed to struggle for a moment for the right word, and seemed to settle unhappily on, “...how it all works, the very fabric of the universe. The other?” He lifted his shoulder again, “The reiatsu I have is an accident of birth and a product of careful practice and training. I’ve come to Academy to remove those fetters, not put more on.” He took another long swig directly from the sake bottle. “However, I have resigned myself to the fact that I must keep the natural level of my spiritual pressure a secret, probably for my whole life. Now you are burdened with this secret, too.”

“Are you so sure we have to keep it? Shinigami seem to adore power and brute force. You could be the Kenpachi, for instance.”

Aizen’s laugh was long and hearty. “You need to study history as well as science. Kenpachi status would hardly save me from prison. In point of fact, I should think it would make me more of a target. Besides, it suits neither me nor my zanpakuto to engage in direct assault. It’s quite literally anthesis to our nature.”

There it was again, an insistence that Aizen was already in possession of a zanpakuto. Well, given the spiritual pressure he already possessed, it was possible. 

More things they had in common.

“What’s she like, then? Your zanpakuto?” Kisuke asked before he remembered Yoruichi telling him it was rude to ask other people about their inner worlds. She told him it was like comparing penises, which everyone did, but you weren’t supposed to bring it up in polite company. “Oh, sorry!” Kisuke waved his hands again, trying to wipe the questions from the air. “I always forget myself on this one. It’s a silly taboo.”

“It is,” Aizen murmured, though he offered nothing more.

Right. Zanpakuto spirits remained secret. Well, Kisuke supposed it made some sense. They were part of a person’s soul, after all. Sometimes they were awkward. Yoruichi had teased him for being a ‘princess’ for months after he’d told her. It wasn’t one of the painful names, however, since it was patently obvious, and not much of an insult at any rate. Princesses were awesome.

Was that Aizen’s hesitance? “It’s a sparkly unicorn,” Kisuke rudely pointed his chopsticks at Aizen’s heart. “Your zanpakuto release is something like ‘Be Fabulous! Sparkly Unicorn!’”

“Yes, you’ve found me out,” Aizen said so deadpan that for the briefest of moments Kisuke believed he had. “My final monster is, in fact, a sparkly unicorn.”

Oh? So the zanpakuto was a monster too? “Are you sure you shouldn’t try to be Kenpachi, then? They’re all monsters in their own way. A blood-soaked oni or kaiju would fit right in.”

Aizen gave Kisuke a glance over the rim of his glasses, “Why are you so insistent that I lead an army of bruisers and intellectual morons? Are you insulting me?”

“Oh, well, I guess I did, but it wasn’t intentional,” Kisuke said, sipping the last of his sake from the bowl. He glanced longingly at the bottle, but Aizen made no move to release his grip on it. “You just seem so… disappointed not to be able to vaporize things with your thundering reiatsu.”

“I’ve vaporized plenty of things in my day,” Aizen said. “It’s hardly a burning desire in my soul.”

“Oh?” This seemed like one of those lies that Aizen told himself, but Kisuke decided not to push it. “Instead you’re learning forbidden Kidō?”

“Or would be, if someone hadn’t stolen my book.”

“Ah, yes, well, I should finish reading that tonight so you can tell me the story of your caper!”

“Mmmm,” Aizen said, beginning to pile up the dishes, so that he could place them in the hall for the servants to retrieve. “Take your time. My ‘caper’ as you call it is very mundane. The oldest story, really. I seduced the librarian.”

Such an interesting thing to lie about. Kisuke wondered what exactly Aizen was hiding.

#

The restricted access librarian didn’t remember Aizen at all. “Really? Not a lot of cadets wear glasses. He’s actually quite tall, an inch on me, but he seems bigger because he has much wider shoulders.”

“Sounds very handsome, indeed,” she said, and Kisuke could almost feel the implied pat on the head of ‘so cute, your crush on him,’ but she shook her head. “We have to record a report on everyone who even asks about the books in this section. I’ll be writing you and your strange questions up later, in fact. I’m required to have a good memory for faces and names. I can tell you no one like that came anywhere near here. You’re the first first year to even try talking to me.”

Kisuke nodded thoughtfully. There were, of course, ways to make people forget an event, even a traumatic one, with technology. But, he’d counted at least three cameras on his way to this desk, and he was certain there were several more pointed at him, currently. It would be a complicated, but not an impossible feat, to zap the librarian and then seek out and destroy the recorded evidence, or even just let it lie, so long as there was no one watching on the other end, but, then, why would Aizen bother to say he’d seduced the librarian when ‘I used a memory zapper’ would be just as boring a tale? 

The middle aged matron hardly seemed easily corruptible. Given Aizen’s dismissive ‘oh, I seduced them,’ Kisuke had been expecting someone younger, perhaps a bit frivolous, or someone of a disposition that their vanity would be easily manipulated. 

The latter might be still true, but, what was far more obvious, was that the librarian was a lesbian.

Perhaps ‘seduction’ had met bribery? Either that, or Aizen was the sort of yokai that could turn into a woman. That would be interesting, but seemed unlikely. It was probably just bribery.

Then why not just say THAT, for heaven’s sake? Bribery was just as boring, if not more, than a memory zapper. At least with a zapper, Kisuke could at least ponder how Aizen had gotten one or if he’d made one himself. Bribery was just a matter of knowing what the other person would sell out for.

“Young man, did you need something else?”

Kisuke blinked. Oh, was he still standing here? Did he need something else? “Well, yes, I was rather wondering how one got legal access to restricted material. Is there a form or something I could fill out? Permission slips to gather?”

“This is your very first year, my dear. Come back when you’re nearly graduated.” As if her dismissive tone wasn’t obvious, she actually turned her back to him as though to go back to work.

Kisuke was forced to raise his voice: “Yes, but is there an actual age restriction or are you just assuming I can’t pass what’s required because you don’t like the look of me?”

The entire library, its staff and patrons, turned to look.

She blushed again, deeper. Then, pulling out a stack of papers from a bottom drawer of her desk, she started thumbing through them, “This will be an exercise in frustration, dear child, but if you’re determined….”

#

At the mess hall, later that day, Kisuke glanced over at where Aizen sat eating the collection of oddities that passed as ‘buffet’ and sighed. “You lie about the weirdest things, Sousuke-kun.”

Aizen choked a bit on his natto. “We’re first name friends already?”

“I double checked. There’s only one librarian, and, if she’s not a lesbian, well, then my gaydar is busted beyond repair. No way you took that woman to bed.”

Several of the students nearby perked up their ears.

“You checked up on me,” Aizen noted. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t lie by default. I initially found the constant lies charming and mysterious, but it’s becoming tiresome, Sou-chan.”

Aizen set his chopsticks down. If he was offended by the shortening of his name to more and more intimate diminutives, he didn’t show it. “Well, that certainly didn’t take very long. Am I being tossed out already?”

Several of the cadets edged closer, eyes wide as plates.

“I don’t like the boring ones, darling, and your lies are very, very boring.”

“As it happens, I don’t appreciate being checked up on, so it seems we agree. I’ll be out before dinner. Shall I leave my key on your work table?”

“That would do, I suppose,” Kisuke said, a little disappointed how quickly this all escalated. Given where they were at already, he might as well play his whole hand. “I returned the book to the library. I thought it was only fair, since you reneged on our deal when you lied.”

Aizen’s eyes narrowed dangerously. His jaw set. “You seem determined to make an enemy of me.”

Well, no, this was actually a bit of a miscalculation, though it was one of the several scenarios Kisuke had anticipated--not his favorite, but what could you do? When emotions got involved simple probability became useless. He’d hoped that Aizen could be taunted into spilling the truth, so many others could have, but it seemed this final monster of his was too precious to be so easily cornered. 

“Seems so,” Kisuke said with a regretful sigh. “Though, honestly, I’d place the majority of the blame on you. You could just tell me how you really did it and we could go back to being friends.”

“That’s assuming we were in the first place. We were using each other, Urahara Kisuke, and you know it.”

“Cold,” someone whistled lowly under their breath. Emboldened, others at the table began to express their opinions. It all came out in a stream: “Red flag! Four eyes is a player. You’re better off without him, blondie.”

All of that was very likely true. What had Hotaru called Aizen? A ‘bad boy.’ 

Aizen sat through this onslaught of public opinion with his eyes downcast and his face a stony mask. Kisuke wondered if he might need to reach up and touch his glasses to remind himself not to atomize these people, but he never did. Not even once. He just continued to eat his meal while their fellow cadets hurtled their insults. 

He must be very used to this.

“Oh, nevermind,” Kisuke said suddenly. “I really don’t care that much. Lies, shm-ies. Everybody lies all the time. And, anyway, I don’t want to lose my playmate over such a trivial thing! It’s all forgiven, we’re good. Let’s skip out, go home, and debate the nature of souls! What do you say?”

Aizen glanced up, his eyes dead and cold. “Well played.” Picking up his tray, Aizen stood. “You really are a bastard, Urahara Kisuke.”

Kisuke watched Aizen go, confused. Hadn’t he offered a laurel branch? A way out?

He would never understand people. Never.

#

When Yoruichi came to visit that weekend, Kisuke told her the whole story. “And, now he won’t even look at me.”

“You blame him?” she scoffed. She was sprawled out on the futon naked. She’d slipped through the Academy’s defenses in cat-form, and Kisuke had long ago learned that if she wanted to borrow his clothes, she’d simply ask.

“Yes?”

“No,” she corrected, sitting up cross-legged. “You said you were in public and that people were listening, right when you suggested just forgetting everything and going home to bed?”

“I didn’t say we should go to bed!” Kisuke insisted irritatedly. “I said I didn’t want to lose my… oh. OH. Oh dear.”

“I’m telling you, they thought it was a lovers’ quarrel from the opening salvo.” Having delivered her lecture, she flopped backwards into the soft mattress again. “You were like, ‘eh, whatever, little boy toy, I’ll forgive you if you fuck me!’”

“I was not!” Kisuke blushed, because, yes, now he could see it all clearly and that was quite precisely what it must have seemed like. “I didn’t mean ‘playmate’ that way. It’s like I told you, he’s my intellectual playmate.”

“Yeah, well, this Aizen character seems like he’s wound a little too tightly to enjoy being called that much either,” she said, snuggling under the covers. “You’re smart, Kisuke. I keep telling you, people think that means that you know what you’re doing when you hurt them. They think it’s a precision strike. They have no idea how STUPID you are about people.”

“I wish everyone understood me like you do,” Kisuke pouted, crawling under the covers to join her.

She smiled, helping him untie his obi. “Yeah, but then I’d have to fight ‘em off. I like having you to myself, you loveable dork.”

#

It was surprisingly easy to avoid Aizen for most of the rest of the school year. Kisuke got caught up in hunting down all the previous work done on soul creation (and destruction and reconstruction, just because.) It was interesting stuff and consumed his days and nights. In fact, summer came and went before fate--or at least the Academy’s registrar’s office--made it impossible to ignore the “Aizen problem,” as Kisuke had dubbed it in his mind. (He’d been hoping for a "Sousuke Solution," but that seemed more elusive than the construction of a brand new soul.)

The two of them had been placed in a very exclusive elite class together sophomore year.

Kidō.

It was another class in which Kisuke would have no trouble remembering everyone’s name, since it was himself, Aizen Sousuke, and some gigantic, bespectacled fellow named Tessai something or other--or something Tessai. 

At any rate, Tessai was clearly the one to beat, and Aizen and he both knew it immediately. Kisuke would have assumed the class was going to be very entertaining with so much intellect and raw power on display. 

Except, Aizen wouldn’t play. When the instructor asked everyone to demonstrate the highest level spell they could do without the chant, Aizen pulled out a measly Hado 44. When he and Tessai performed in the sixties and seventies, Aizen pulled a schoolboy--rubbing the back of his head and demuring. “Maybe I shouldn’t be in this class.”

“Such rubbish!” Kisuke shouted just as the instructor had started to say something encouraging.

The instructor flashed Kisuke a hard look. Even Tessai raised an eyebrow over his thick glasses. Unaccustomed to the feeling of shame, Kisuke wasn’t quite sure what to do with the blush burning on his cheeks. This was not logical. Aizen was not acting logically.

Who was this man? Where were his fascinating arrogance and thrilling monsters?

“I know I’m not up to your skill level,” Aizen said with a falsely-humble smile. “Please have patience with me.”

“I’m certain you have the skill,” was all Kisuke could trust himself to say.

He spent the rest of the class fuming silently and trying not to flinch every time Aizen intentionally flubbed a spell. What should have been his most funnest class became Kisuke’s most torturous. Minutes stretched into hours. Finally, the bell rang and Kisuke made a bee-line to the instructor. “I can’t be in this class one more minute,” Kisuke said. “I withdraw! I quit! I have to take a pass. I need to drop.”

The instructor, the Kidō Commander, shifted her great robes slightly in surprise. She pursed her lips and gave Kisuke a penetrating look. “Why?”

Kisuke was fairly terrible at lying, but he was beginning to understand that certain truths made a person seem cruel and unfeeling. So, he cast about for something suitable and settled on a very uncertain, “I… have a conflict.”

“And that conflict is me,” Aizen said smoothly, coming to stand beside them. With a dip of his head, as though deeply apologetic, he said, “It’s my skill level, sensei. It must be difficult for such star students to be hobbled by someone like me.”

The instructor tapped a long, lacquered fingernail against her painted lips. “You showed aptitude, Aizen Sousuke.”

He dipped his head. “I will try to live up to your expectations.”

It was so painful to watch all this. Kisuke wanted to scream and swear and ask him what he was playing at and WHY? So much WHY? 

Tessai came up to the group and made an attempt at a peace offering, “Shall we all go out for drinks?”

“I would like to drink,” Kisuke agreed. “A lot. And you, Aizen?”

“Oh, the offer is quite kind, but I’m afraid I’m due at calligraphy club. I’m the president, so I can’t miss. Next time!”

After Aizen dashed off, Kisuke sidled up to Tessai. “What do you make of that one?”

“Sousuke-kun? I’m surprised to see him in this class. From what I hear, he’s an average student,” Tessai covered his mouth. “Oh, that was rude of me! But, what I guess I mean is that it’s surprising to have someone so popular in a nerd class like this, if you know what I mean?”

“I do not, not in the least,” Kisuke said, feeling bewildered. “Aizen is a nerd. A huge chemistry nerd. How is that popular?”

Tessai blinked down at Kisuke--or at least, Kisuke imagined he did by the way he adjusted his thick, square glasses in surprise. “I don’t know anything about the chemistry thing. Unless I’m mistaken, Aizen Sousuke is the ‘prince’ of Year Two.”

“Prince?” That was an odd moniker for him, given that he was an actual bastard. 

“That’s what you call the guy everyone wants to date,” Tessai explained with a little color on his cheek. “I never thought someone like that would be jealous of someone like me. Between you and me, I don’t think he’s going to last in this class.”

“Really?”

“No,” Tessai said, “Mark my words. He’ll either drop out or be reassigned.”

#

It was painful to watch Tessai’s words become fact. Aizen kept sabotaging himself over and over, messing up simple things, acting as if the complex chants were too difficult. 

“Why?” Kisuke burst out during the third day of this painful charade, “Why are you doing this? This is not you!”

The instructor misunderstood. Again. She assumed he’d meant to insult Aizen by implying that Kido was not FOR him, and so chided Kisuke with a wag of her finger and: “We should have patience with those who are learning, Urahara-san.”

Aizen’s expression was one Kisuke could read easily. It was ‘kicked puppy,’ the one that made everyone feel sorry, and as though whoever had done the kicking was a vile human being. He was being outplayed here, in an area that was well, well out of his depth. All he could do was try to cover his outburst with an awkward giggle and an attempt at a sincere apology.

All of which backfired, of course, because Kisuke had no skills whatsoever in this arena, and even Tessai, whom he’d carefully started to strike up a tenuous, genuine friendship with, gave him a stern, disapproving shake of his head.

Aizen dropped out the very next day.

#

When Kisuke went to confront Aizen, he found him surrounded by a gaggle of adoring fans. Eighty-five percent female, Kisuke calculated as he approached where they sat in the quad… under his favorite maple. The group seemed to be having some kind of spontaneous picnic, and poetry reading? At any rate, Aizen was reading to everyone from some popular romantic poet, and there were a lot of sighs and doey-eyes.

When one of the group spotted Kisuke’s approach, they stood up, taking a defensive posture. Kisuke measured his opponent up quickly: she was small, but likely agile and nothing to be underestimated in her Academy reds, after all. 

He raised his hands for peace. Before he could open his mouth, however, she shouted, “What do you want? Have you come to make Sousuke-kun more miserable? Do you need to show off how much more powerful your Kidō is?”

She looked ready to spit at his feet. Kisuke doffed an imaginary hat and bowed. “I’m sorry,” he said as he came up. “Do I know you?”

“We know you,” said someone else, a young man, who was leaning casually against a tree. “You’re the jerk from that advanced class.”

All this commotion made Aizen set down his book and look up. “Now, now,” he told his fans, “There’s no need for any of this. That class was simply not for me. I was in way over my head. I might be decent enough a practitioner, but I just don’t have the skills to be in the Kidō Corps. The instructor and I had a good talk about it. It’s a better idea for me to stay in the general program. I told you all this. There’s no one to blame. Besides, this way I get to stay in classes with all my friends!”

There was much cooing and fawning.

Kisuke stood stock still. He had no name for the monster he saw before him. It was a slippery, clever monster, because it seemed to have many bodies. 

All of which were giving him the stink eye.

There was no winning against this particular monster. None at all. For the first time in his life, Kisuke had no strategy, no plan, no clever backdoor escape.

All he could do was flee.

“I’ll just take my leave,” Kisuke said quietly.

#

For the next several weeks, Kisuke was the target of much ‘accidental’ shoving and pranks and tripping and gross things discovered in his shoe cubby or mess hall food. The solution seemed to be walking around with Tessai who was as kind-hearted as a dove, but who also had the natural menace of mass and height. 

Yoruichi offered to ‘beat up the snot-nosed runt,’ but even Kisuke could see how that would backfire.

“We’ve been beaten by a masterful long game,” Kisuke mused, while lying in their shared bed, the cool evening air evaporating the sweat from their spent bodies. “I don’t even know how I would have stopped it. I didn’t pay any attention. Meanwhile he was off learning how to be… charming, I suppose. And so quickly, too, for someone who never had anyone to give him a list. We could have been such fast friends. I suppose this is my fault somehow.”

“Eh,” Yoruichi muttered, “I think he just finally showed you his true colors. Look how he is! He’s nothing but a stupid bully now. He shot himself in the foot by leaving the Kidō class. Not such a bright move for someone you claim is so smart. Good riddance, I say!”

Kisuke made agreeing noises, but he couldn’t shake the sense of dread. He didn’t believe for a moment Aizen wasn’t teaching himself high-level Kidō. But, Yoruichi had a point, so what? It was just sad and a bit maddening to see someone throw away science for popularity. People did it all the time, however. He should be used to losing colleagues to frivolous things like wanting to be loved. No one liked being a lonely nerd, and Aizen had always been so lonely.

Still.

He wouldn’t waste the opportunity to asking him directly about it, if he could ever catch him alone.

#

Turned out, Aizen came to him. Or rather, he ran into Aizen, when Aizen was bringing a bouquet of wildflowers to the servant, Hotaru. Kisuke saw her accept them with a blush and a stammered thank you. She scurried off as Aizen waved and wished her a ‘happy birthday.’

“Oh,” Kisuke said, coming up beside Aizen, “I had no idea it was her birthday.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Aizen smiled. It was one of his cold smiles, which Kisuke found he preferred to the fake ones.

“You’ve contrived to be here when I would see this clever play of yours,” Kisuke surmised instantly. “You might as well say what you came to.”

“I hardly have to contrive to be a place I live,” Aizen chuckled a little, tucking his hands behind his back, waiting for that to sink in.

He’d taken another noble lover? Well, that wasn’t terribly impressive. That was a game Kisuke understood and respected, after all, his mother had been a pro at it, as it were. But, taking Hotaru. That was low.

“Petty,” Kisuke sighed, though he doubted he was clever enough to hide his hurt. “Boring.”

“I suppose. Still, it was your idea.”

“Was it?” Kisuke asked, pulling the fan from his sleeve to cover his expression of interest. 

“You told me to form an army, so I did.”

Curious, indeed. But, an army of giggling fans, what sort of war did they wage? “To what end?”

Aizen smiled and shrugged a little. They’d been walking along the corridor towards the door. Stopping, Aizen opened it for Kisuke, gentleman-like. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But one day, I will have one and you will not.”

“Only time will tell if that even matters,” Kisuke mused.

Aizen nodded. “A long game suits me.”

“Until then?”

Aizen smiled the kind of smile Kisuke liked on him a lot: arrogant, full of challenge, and… monstrous. “Indeed. Until then.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had started this a long time ago and finally finished it up. I've always wondered who went to Academy with Aizen, and decided it would be interesting if it were Urahara. I take liberties with both of their pasts, but Aizen has to have some from SOMEWHERE as must have Urahara. Feel free to ignore at will.


End file.
